Power Hungry

What do you eat when you're power hungry? Like, I mean totally-exhausted-and-needing-fuel-or -you'll-pass-out-within-the-next-five-minutes hungry? My body must be going through some sort of repair stage because I've felt this hungry twice in the past week. One of those times I was in my classroom getting ready to read a story to 25 little pre-teen monsters during the last period of the day -- a challenge in itself, much less when you're super hungry. I had to settle for cereal, soy milk and another cup of tea.




What I really wanted was this tofu chickpea scramble that I made the other night, when my first power-hunger hit. It has a triple -- yes triple -- dose of protein provided by tofu, chickpeas and a nice drizzle of tahini. It's a simple dish, flavoured with ginger, soy, a little dash of curry powder and a big splash of lime juice. Paired with whole grain red rice and kale, it totally sucker punched my hunger right in the gut. A satisfying, tasty and nutrient-packed meal -- plus it's easy enough for a stressful weeknight: what are you waiting for?

Tofu Chickpea Scramble
adapted from Choosing Raw
serves 2 power hungry people

1/2 cup of your favourite grain (I used red rice. Quinoa or millet would also be fantastic)
1 cup of water or broth
1 bunch of greens -- kale, spinach, chard, collards, even broccoli florettes

1/2 inch bit of ginger
1 teaspoon of curry powder
1 cup of cooked chickpeas (canned is fine as well -- just rinse and drain first!)
1 6oz package of firm tofu
1 little drizzle of toasted sesame seed oil
1 tablespoon of tahini
1 big splash of soy
the juice of a lime

1. Rinse your grain out well and place in a pot. Add your water or broth and bring to a rolling boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and then cook, covered. Times will vary depending on your grain. My red rice take a little bit longer than regular rice. When it's almost done, add in your greens. Cover, and let them steam for about 5ish minutes.

2. In a skillet, sweat the ginger in some olive oil for about 3-4 minutes, until it gets nice and fragrant. Add the curry powder and let it toast for about 1 minute.

3. Crumble in the tofu and give it a good mix. Let the tofu brown for a couple of minutes. If you're using a non-stick pan, you should be fine. If not, you might need to add a touch more oil to make sure things don't get too dry.

4. When the tofu is browned, add the chickpeas, tahini, sesame oil, soy and lime juice. Stir well and let it cook for another few minutes.

5. Divide your rice and greens into two bowls. Add your tofu scramble and dig in.

Yummy Falafelness

I love falafel. I love the cuminyness and the heartyness, but I hate the deep fry. A little pan sear I can handle, but not the deep fry. These veggie patties remind me of falafel -- they would probably taste more like falafel if there was a nice hit of fresh parsley and lemon in it, but they still taste great. They're even better with your favourite burger toppings and sided with baked french fries (which we didn't have, but hey, that would've been good).




I've had veggie burgers before -- some really meaty-tasting, some really chewy and tasteless. These patties are tender and flavourful and don't hold together very well, but the taste makes up for it. They're made of chickpeas, broccoli, and quinoa, so they're packed with protein and all kinds of other good stuff. There's a sprinkling of breadcrumbs to hold it together, and I think adding a bit more would have helped it bind more, but I didn't mind the tenderness one bit. They were the perfect light supper, and totally easy to make. Just remember to use a non-stick frying pan, or you could try baking them like the original recipe calls for. Next time, I think I'll try it with black beans and chipotle powder for a little something different. I don't crave burgers often, but I did yesterday, and this really hit the spot; and they're vegan. Bonus!





I might even be brave enough soon to try this meat-y looking beet burger ...

Falafely Veggie Patties
adapted from The Tolerant Vegan

1/3 cup of quinoa, rinsed
1/3 cup of vegetable stock
1/3 cup of water

1.5 cups of cooked chickpeas (or use one can)
1 small head or broccoli florets
1 small onion, diced
1/2 teaspoon of ground cumin
1 tablespoon of tahini
salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons of water or stock
2 tablespoons of bread crumbs

1. First, cook the quinoa in the water and vegetable stock. Bring to a boil, stir, and then turn down to a simmer. Cook, covered, for 15-20 minutes, or until the quinoa has puffed and the liquid is all soaked up. Set aside.

2. Saute the onions in a bit of olive oil until soft and translucent. Add the cumin and cook for another minute or so. Let cool and then put them in a food processor.

3. Blanch your broccoli, and add it to the food processor. Add the quinoa, chickpeas, and tahini. Pulse a few times and then add the stock, a little at a time until the mixture comes together. Don't over blend or you'll get mush.

4. Remove the mixture to a bowl and add the bread crumbs (maybe add another 2 tablespoons if you want a firmer patty), salt and pepper. Give it all a good mix, and then taste. Adjust your seasonings. Let the mixture stand for about 10 minutes.

5. Shape the mixture into patties -- any size you like! We made a few big ones and lots of tiny baby ones. Brown them in a non-stick frying pan with a bit of olive oil for about 3 minutes on each side.

6. Serve .. however you like! On buns with burger toppings, in a wrap with lettuce and tahini dressing ..

I'll Miss You, Winter

Every year near the end of March, I ache for spring to arrive. During the first day that temperatures get above 5 degrees, I shed my puffy winter coat for a light spring jacket and declare it spring. A week later, when it's snowing and -13, I'm in denial; I add two more layers underneath my spring jacket and carry on. It's always a Spring-Winter battle this time of the year where I live. There's rain, there's snow, there's hail, there's chilly wind, there's sunshine and there's warmth. Spring wants to arrive, but Winter doesn't want to say good-bye.

This past week has been pretty soggy, but temperatures haven't been too bad. I'm seeing plants for sale at the market, and there's light out when I get ready to go to work. I think Winter has finally said good-bye. Now that's it's happened, I'm thinking back to cozy days spent curled up on the couch with coffee or tea, winter adventures and hikes, and of course, winter food: hearty soups and stews, casseroles, and my favourite, spicy curries made with winter vegetables. I made this cauliflower and chickpea curry last weekend to welcome home my love after a week spent in New Brunswick. It lasted us the entire week and helped to shake off the damp chill that early spring rain can leave in your bones.



This curry is comfort in every way. It's got chickpeas, lentils, cauliflower and a big dose of ginger to scare away the cold. The recipe is simple and straightforward, despite the long ingredient list, so you can make it even when you're coming down with a cold, like I was. I used Malaysian curry powder, which gives this stew a beautiful smoky flavour and a bright orange-red colour. A little dash of hot smoked paprika brought it to a new level. We ate bowls of this curry paired with rice one night, pita bread the next, and even all by itself. It was the perfect way to say goodbye to Winter and welcome home my love.


Chickpea and Cauliflower Curry

1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
an inch chunk of ginger, finely diced
1 teaspoon of ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon of ground coriander
2 teaspoons of Malaysian curry powder
a pinch of hot, smoked paprika
5-6 curry leaves (or lime leaves)
2 medium carrots, diced
1 stalk of celery, diced
a handful of mini potatoes, quartered
1 can of sodium-free chickpeas
half a large head of cauliflower
1/4 cup of red lentils, rinsed well
4 cups of water, or vegetable stock
1 small can of crushed tomatoes
salt and pepper to taste

1. In a large pot, sweat the onions for about 2-3 minutes, or until translucent and fragrant. Add the garlic and ginger, carrots and celery and season with salt and pepper.

2. Turn up the heat and add the spices and curry leaves. Stir vigorously to toast the spices. Add the potatoes and lentils and toss around until everything is coated in spice. Add the stock or water and crushed tomatoes and stir well, making sure to scrape up any yummy spicy bits that have stuck to the bottom of the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.

3. Cook until the potatoes are tender and the lentils have almost melted away. Add the cauliflower and chickpeas and give it a good mix. Put the lid on and let the cauliflower cook for about 5-7 minutes, or until tender. Give it one big stir, and then leave the lid on and let it sit for about 10 minutes so everything can mingle.

4. Serve warm with rice, pita or all by itself!

Spiced Quinoa Pilaf with Chickpeas and Spinach

The last time I cleansed, I made quinoa porridge with soy milk, mashed banana and frozen fruits. It was satisfying and comforting and I would make it again in an instant. This time around, I used quinoa for dinner instead of breakfast, and made this tasty, hearty pilaf full of yummy goodness like chickpeas, spinach and a big dose of spice.


Last time around, I used lemon and vinegar to flavour my savoury meals, and while they were tasty, I wanted something more comforting and mellow. Our cleanse dictated that no salt was to be added to our food. To make up for that, I made this pilaf lots of delicious spices and herbs: cumin, coriander, ginger, garam masala, curry leaves, dried oregano, lots of black pepper and even more chopped fresh parsley. It turned out wonderful and I almost didn't miss the salt at all. And it was really easy -- basically dumping everything in a pot to cook, and stirring in the chickpeas and fresh herbs and vegetables in at the last second. I made a big batch the night before my cleanse, and ate it both nights along with some fresh steamed broccoli.

Almost makes me want to cleanse more often ... almost... I said almost...

Spiced Quinoa Pilaf with Chickpeas and Spinach
makes 4 hearty servings

1/2 cup of quinoa
a handful each of dried yellow and green split peas
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon of grated ginger
1/2 teaspoon each of coriander and garam masala
4 curry leaves (use one bay leaf or lime leaf if you don't have curry leaves)
1/2 teaspoon of dried oregano
a few good grinds of black pepper
half an onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1.5 cups of water

a big handful of parsley, chopped, stems separated from leaves
a small bunch of baby spinach, rinsed and chopped
1 can of salt-free chickpeas, drained (you could be really virtuous and used dried)

1. Rinse the quinoa and split peas well. Put them in a large pot with all the spices, onion, garlic, curry leaves, water and chopped parsley stems. Bring to a boil, and then reduce to simmer. Cover and let cook for about 15 minutes, or until most of the water is gone.

2. Add the parsley leaves, spinach and chickpeas and stir well. Cook for another 5 or so minutes, until the chickpeas have warmed through and the spinach and parsley are just cooked and still bright green.

3. Enjoy a beautiful, cleansing dinner.

La Belle Verte

L’Automne me parle. Elle me chuchote dans l’oreille, en disant: Au revoir … au revoir .. à l’année prochaine. Pour la plupart, je ne peux pas l’entendre, elle parle si doucement. Les après-midis sont toujours ensoleillés, je ne dois que porter ma tuque après le couché du soleil. Le vent est toujours doux et frais, et les feuilles sont encore colorés…les belles rouges, oranges et jaunes de l’Automne. Mais .. mais .. son départ est là. Son au revoir reste dans mon esprit comme un rêve dont je n’arrive pas à rappeler tous les détails. Elle me chuchote à l’aube, quand l’air est froid et glacé. Elle berce le soleil beaucoup plus tôt que d’habitude, et elle me suggère avec un tout petit frisson, que je devrais porter mes bas et attacher ma tuque.

L’Automne, je vous aime, et pourtant, vous restez seulement quelques courts mois. Je voudrais vous garder dans mon esprit, même quand la neige de l’Hiver me chatouille le nez, même quand la pluie de Printemps me mouille les cheveux, et même quand la chaleur de l’Été me crie d’enlever mon chandail ..

Mais enfin, le cycle de saisons doit prendre place, et je ne peux que penser aux après-midi de l’automne parfaits, ceux qui sont passés en marchant avec mon amour, en prenant un café lentement, un en particulier passé juste à l’autre côté de la capitale de notre pays, à la ville étrange et charmante de Gatineau. On a marché pour une belle demi-heure, suivant les rues cycliques qui semblent n’emmener qu’aux bâtiments gouvernementales gris et sérieux et bien trop officiels pour un petit séjour en Octobre. Mais, en tournant un coin final, on est arrivé soudain au milieu du centre-ville. Encore, étrange et charmant, pas comme les centres-villes de ma connaissance, ce centre-ville était entouré de maisons résidentielles, et ce centre-ville était solennelle et silencieux. On a dîné chez un petit resto vegan : La Belle Verte. C’est là où j’ai fait connaissance du foncé et feuillu chou frisé (kale en anglais). Ce légume je n’ai jamais goûté auparavant, et maintenant, je l’en suis toute intoxiquée. Mon amour a commandé une spécialité : La Belle Verte, qui est composé des pâtes (faites à la maison de blé entier), des légumes (carottes, choux frisé, brocoli et haricots) et une sauce au choix (il a choisi la sauce épicée aux arachides). Moi, j’ai choisi le cari aux légumes avec du riz, encore servis avec les mêmes légumes délicieux. Le cari était doux et savoureux, mais c’était le chou frisé qui, pour moi, a fait ce repas mémorable. Un simple légume, oui, mais quand je l’ai goûté, c’était l’Automne qui me vient à l’esprit.

Maintenant que mon beau séjour est fini il y a un long moi, et le vent de l’Hiver m’embrasse furtivement pendant les sombres matins, et les soirées tardifs, je cherche à augmenté ces belles souvenirs pour me couvrir avec tous ses chaleurs de l’Automne. C’est certainement les goûts de l’automne qui sont les plus réconfortants, et parmi les pommes, les citrouilles, la cannelle et les canneberges, je cuis le chou frisé. Non, je n’ai pas essayé à refaire les repas de La Belle Verte (mais je l’en veux bien). Ailleurs, j’ai fait un simple dîner de pois de chiches assaisonnés avec le gingembre et les autres saveurs asiatiques et le chou frisé blanchi. Très simple, mais délicieux, et certainement un repas qui emmène mes souvenirs de Gatineau au devant de mon esprit.

Simple Chickpeas and Kale
serves 2

a small bunch of kale, stems removed
1 can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 teaspoon of olive oil
a small chunk of ginger
a splash each of dark soy, light soy and sesame seed oil
1/2 teaspoon of ground coriander
black pepper to taste

1. Blanch the kale in salted, boiling water for 30 seconds. Remove, drain and roughly chop. Divide between two bowls.

2. In a saucepan, heat the oil and ginger over high heat until things get toasty and fragrant. Add the chickpeas, soy sauces, coriander and sesame seed oil and toss around. Add black pepper and cook until the sauces turn syrupy.

3. Pour the chickpeas over the kale and serve immediately.

4. Au revoir L’Autonme. À l’année prochaine!

La Nostalgie

Je n’imaginerais jamais qu’une cérémonie de remise de diplômes ne me donnerait jamais des sentiments de nostalgie. Mais en fait, c’est exactement le mot qui décrit me sentiments en ce moment là. La nostalgie. C’est aussi la cause de cet abrupt changement de langue ici à mon blogue. Laissez-moi m’expliquer un peu…

Ma sœur a reçu aujourd’hui son diplôme d’études supérieures de l’Université de Toronto. Elle tient maintenant, un doctorat ès « physiques biomédicales. » Après tant d’années d’études, elle est officiellement Dr. Lau. C’était un moment à jamais oublier – pour elle, et pour moi. J’ai regardé avec fierté tandis qu’elle marchait sur le podium, se tenait les mains du Chancellor, et finalement, quand elle sortait de la salle. Heureux comme ce moment était, je me sentais un peu triste. Pourquoi? L’université me manque un peu. Le monde de l’académie me manque …juste un peu. Je ne voudrais pas dire que la stresse de travail, et les présentations orales et les courses qui durent jusqu'à neuf heures du soir me manquent. En fait, je suis bien contente de les laisser dans mon passé. Et je ne voudrais pas dire non plus, que je ne suis bien heureuse de me réveiller chaque jour en savant que je vais recevoir au moins 100 « Bonjour Madame! » Cette assurance là me ferait sourire à n’importe quel moment. Mais … les copains avec qui je peux discuter le monde politique, les camarades de classes avec qui je peux utiliser mon français, et la lecture .. la lecture .. ce sont ces souvenirs là qui me manquent maintenant.

Quand je suis sortie de l’Université je craignais de perdre mon habilité de parler, comprendre et écrire en français. Mon emploi n’exige qu’un niveau intermédiaire de communication française, et je ne voulais pas gaspiller tous que j’ai appris pendant 6 longues années à l’école. Alors, pour l’éviter, je lis toujours les livres français (et permettez-moi de dire que, cette liberté seule, vaut la peine de ces 6 longues années à l’université), j’écoute de la radio français, et aujourd’hui, je me promets d’écrire de temps et temps en français. Voilà! La nostalgie, elle ne cause pas toujours du chagrin, n’est pas?

Mon dieu que c’était une longue introduction à un repas si simple : une salade inspirée par la très connue salade niçoise de la France. Mais, comme toujours, j’ai fait quelques substitutions, je et suis sûre que mon meilleur amie va dire « C’est une bonne petite salade, mais ce n’est pas une salade niçoise! » C’est vrai. Ce n’est pas une salade niçoise, mais une salade qui rappelle les saveurs des fines herbes, le citron, l’onctueux jaune d’œuf, une savoureuse saleté (qui provient traditionnellement des olives, mais dans ce cas sont substitués pars des tomates séchés au soleil), et enfin la fraicheur d’une légume légèrement cuit dans l’eau – dans ce cas, les asperges en place des haricots verts. Oui, je sais – c’est beaucoup de substitutions. Mais, la plus grande nous attend ..

J’étais inspirée à faire cette salade après avoir lu ce post de tara à Seven Spoons, qui a fait un pan bagnat (un ronde de pain français remplis d’une salade niçoise traditionnelle – c’est-à-dire avec du thon, des olives et des herbes fines), et ce post de gazellig-girl, qui a fait une saladé au « thon » -- elle a remplacé le thon avec des pois de chiches écrasés avec les tines d’une fourchette. Oui, c’est ça. La substitution finale : au lieu d’utiliser du thon, j’ai utilisé les pois de chiches, mais je les ai laissés entiers bien sur! Et c’était un bon petit souper : léger, fraîche, et saine.

Ahhh, ça fait longtemps que j’ai écrit en français! C’est peut-être pourquoi ce post semble jamais terminer. Pour cela, je m’excuse. Mais, quand la nostalgie m’appelle, je serai toujours obligée de lui répondre …

Oh, et je vous donne la recette en anglais … au cas où vous voulez vraiment faire cette salade mais, vous ne voulez pas penser trop fort .. Voilà.

Salade « Niçoise » aux pois de chiches

Vinaigrette :

Juice of a lemon

salt and pepper to taste

2 tablespoons of olive oil

a handful of chopped fresh basil

2 sprigs of chopped fresh thyme

a small handfull of chopped fresh parsley

Salad:

1 cup of cooked rice

half a can of chickpeas, drained and rinced

a small bunch of asparagus, blanched

4 sundried tomatoes, chopped roughly

a quarter of a red onion, finely diced

1. Make the viniagrette by first mixing together all the ingredients except the herbs and oil. Add the oil slowly, stirring constantly. Add in the chopped herbs. Taste and add more seasoning and oil to suit your taste. Let it sit in the fridge while you make your salad.

2. Blanch the asparagus in water until desired tenderness. Shock in iced water and pat dry.

3. Make the eggs by placing them in cold water, bringing it up to a boil, and then letting them sit for about 3 minutes. This will give you an egg where the whites and hard cooked, but the yolk is still party runny.

4. Toss the asparagus, rice, chickpeas, sun-dried tomatoes and red onions with the vinaigrette. Anoint with the egg, making sure that the yolk spills over the vegetables and rice so that your first bite tastes like the south of France.